Page 35 of Center Ice
“Thanks,” he calls over the back of the couch. “Took me decades of frustration to finally come to the realization. Knowing that her behavior stems from her own unhappiness helps me remember that I don’t have to respond to every little insult she slings my way.”
He’s balancing a lot—a new team, relocating, helping with his mom, and now finding out he has a son. I wish his sister was more supportive. “So it’s always been like this with you two?”
“Kind of.” He shrugs. “Once my dad died, she always acted like she needed to be the second parent in our family. It was probably part of how she coped with his death, whereas I barely have any memories of him at all. But she’s never done anything but make me feel guilty about it. Every little sacrifice she’s made, she rubs in my face. And she treats hockey like it’s some game I’m off playing so I can avoid real life, instead of it being my career.”
“Sounds like she gives you lots of opportunities to practice restraint,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.
He pauses, a thoughtful look on his face. In most ways, Drew is clearly older now, but the way his eyebrows raise when he’s thinking and his hair flops forward a bit, makes him look almost the same as in college. And for a moment, I feel like I’m transported right back to his apartment, where I spent stupid amounts of my time and the school’s money trying to get him to focus on calculus long enough to understand it.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” He gives me a lopsided smile while brushing the hair back off his face, and my heart warms toward him. His boyish charm was nearly irresistible back in college, but seeing glimpses of it now amid the more mature pro hockey player makes him…maybe even harder to resist?
I return to the couch, but I can’t get comfortable enough to restartSweet Home Alabama.
“Hey,” he says, putting his hand on my thigh to stop me from squirming. “What’s wrong?”
“I just can’t find a way to sit that doesn’t hurt my lower back.”
“What’s normally most comfortable when you feel like this?”
“Curling up in a ball.”
“Let’s do that then,” he says. “Obviously, I need to know if Melanie ever signs those divorce papers, so we’ll finish the movie that way.”
Do I want to be lying down, curled up with Drew curled behind me while I re-watch a rom-com I’ve seen a hundred times?Hell yes, I do!But is it the responsible choice?
“Drew…” I leave his name hanging there like a warning. Neither of us is stupid enough to pretend it’s a good idea to be cuddling on the couch, because we both know where that might lead. After all, we’ve been there before.
“You know it turns me on when you say my name like that, right?” His voice is teasing, but it’s also dropped an octave and wraps around me like a caress. I don’t know how his tone gives my body such a physical response, but it keeps happening.
Hearing him say that I turn him on has me afraid to reply. My logic and emotions are all over the place right now, so instead, I roll my eyes at him in response.
“You know what I hearreallyhelps with period cramps?” he says.
“If you say sex, I’m going to punch you in the face.”
His laugh is a quiet rumble, and I like the sound of it way more than I should. In fact, it’s got those abdominal cramps subsiding in favor of a tingling pressure building throughout my core instead. “I didn’t know sex helped with that,” he says, his voice quiet, “but I mean, if that’s a sacrifice you need me to make…”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not.” It’s unfortunate how often I have to say the exact opposite of what I want to say when I’m around him, but someone has to be the adult here.
“I was going to suggest a massage, actually. Parkinson’s causes muscle rigidity and massage can really relieve some of the stiffness, so I learned how to give them in order to help my mom. I could probably help your back muscles relax a bit, too.”
“I’d say it can’t hurt to try, but let’s not forget what happened last time you had your hands on me.”
“I won’t touch anything but your back.” He gives me that same lopsided smile, and it’s so hard to say no to him, especially when we want the same thing. “Unless you ask me to.”
“Fine,” I sigh, as if I’m giving in to something I don’t actually want—when, in fact, my body is literally aching for him to touch me. “And I’m not going to ask you to touch any part of me but my back.”
He lets out a small grunt of disapproval. “Your loss.”
Drew has me lay on my side, and then he snuggles in behind me. I turn the movie back on, enjoying the way his strong fingers dig into my muscles as we watch Reese Witherspoon and Josh Lucas banter about their failed marriage.
“Can you roll toward your stomach?” His breath warms the side of my face as he asks the question. I startle because he’s made sure no part of his body is touching mine except for his hand on my back, so I hadn’t realized quite how close he is.
“Sure,” I say, and try not to groan as I move. The right side of my back, which he’s been massaging, feels amazing, but the left side is still incredibly tight. Once I’m on my stomach with my head resting on my hands, I try to turn my attention back to the movie, but I can’t. Because the warmth radiating off Drew, along with the way my muscles are finally starting to relax, makes it damn near impossible to keep my eyes open.
Iwake up gradually in the silent, mostly dark room. The movie is over, and the TV is frozen on the screen, suggesting the next movies I might want to choose from.
My neck is crooked from having it turned so sharply while lying on my stomach, so I go to flip onto my right side and come face to face with Drew. I don’t know why it surprises me that he’s still here, but it does.
